


Slipping Past

by bigblueboxat221b



Category: Come From Away - Sankoff & Hein
Genre: 5+1 Things, AUs, F/M, Gander (Come From Away), do not copy to another site
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-15
Updated: 2019-12-15
Packaged: 2021-02-26 06:53:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 13,064
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21799429
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bigblueboxat221b/pseuds/bigblueboxat221b
Summary: Five times their souls didn't bond, and one time they did.
Relationships: Nick/Diane
Comments: 8
Kudos: 8





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Chapter 1: The five times. Each a separate universe (so they're not all happening in the same timeline).  
> Chapter 2: The one time. Clearly I became a little carried away. ; )
> 
> Disclaimer: This is not RPF  
> While Nick and Diane in the musical are based on real people, this story is set strictly in the fictional representation of them in the musical, ‘Come From Away’. I haven’t done any research into their personal lives, and anything further than what is canon in the musical is completely made up, with the exception of some geographical details. This is not intended to represent the real life couple in any way, their thoughts, attitudes or actions. It’s just my brain saying, ‘what if?’, as it does to every story that resonates with me.

**1\. Nick isn’t on the flight on 9/11**

“So if you could put that in writing, I’d very much appreciate it,” Nick said to his doctor.

“Certainly,” came the reply. “I can send it directly to your boss, if you like?”

“Thank you,” Nick said. “I’ve been telling them for months I shouldn’t be flying as often as I do, but,” he shrugged. “I’m hoping this might make them realise I need to travel less.”

“Fingers crossed,” the doctor said, smiling and shaking his hand.

Nick breathed a sigh of relief as he left. With any luck, this would mean he could start sharing the international travel. Every time the subject came up Chloe was eager to go, and privately, Nick was thinking he might start looking at other companies if his boss insisted on his continued travel schedule.

It had been nice, initially; who wouldn’t want to fly all over Europe for work, especially when the company didn’t mind if he tacked on a day or two to his four day conferences to explore? But when the travel became shorter – a meeting in Belgium in the early afternoon, and we’re not going to pay for a hotel so come home that night, thanks – the bloom came very quickly off the rose. Nick found himself travelling more than he used to with far less time to explore the cities he was visiting; the world was reduced to airports, taxis and meeting rooms. If he was lucky, there would be a hotel, but more and more he was booked to fly out and back on the same day.

It was not what he’d signed up for, and when Nick first saw his doctor about the chest pains and shortness of breath, he thought it was anxiety.

“We’ll send you for an ECG,” the doctor had said. “Just to check your heart’s doing what it’s meant to be doing.”

It wasn’t, as it turned out; a slight arrhythmia, and although the doctor assured him it was nothing serious, Nick had spoken to his boss immediately.

“Travel is part of your job description,” the reply had come immediate and firm. “We can look at consolidating some of your meetings so you’re not heading out of London as often, but if you don’t feel like you can travel any longer,” the shrug his boss gave spoke volumes.

_You can be replaced._

The consolidated trips turned out to be worse, flying out of London and doing a whirlwind around three or four cities in two or three days before returning with the expectation he’d be back in the office on the next business day. When his boss told him of the conference in Dallas, Nick had protested, and hard; it was much further and longer than his usual trips.

“It’s your call, of course,” his boss said, subtext so clear it barely warranted the term. “But unless you have a medical condition that would prevent you, we’ve booked you to fly next week.” He glanced at his notes. “Leaving Tuesday the eleventh. Amanda has the details.”

“Right,” Nick replied. He’d not allowed his boss to see the idea he’d sparked with the throwaway line about ‘a medical condition’. His doctor was good, and Nick knew how to say the right things. He did have a medical condition after all; it was merely a case of ensuring the severity was…emphasised. Just enough to convince his boss he needed to fly less, which wasn’t a lie, anyway.

+++  
  


_Dear Mr. Marson,_

_We have received the notification from your doctor regarding your heart condition. Please contact HR to discuss the re-distribution of tasks within your team to ensure your goals are still met. As always, this organisation is committed to ensuring the health of our team members._

_Sincerely,_

_Jack Ryder_

_HR Manager_

Nick smiled, folding the letter and looking at his suitcase. Might actually have to put it away, he thought to himself. The amount he’d travelled in the last six months, it had barely been worth storing it in between; tucking it under the hall table made more sense than wrestling it into the top of his wardrobe every week or so. Now, with Chloe enthusiastically taking over, he could spend more time at home. In his small flat, on his own with his music and books, where he was comfortable. Nothing to push him out of his shell, to force him into the awkwardness that inevitably came when he tried to speak to people.

Looking out over the city, a quiet voice in Nick’s head pointed out how the quiet and comfortable time he spent in his flat could be construed as ‘lonely’. He frowned, shaking his head at the idea. He liked sitting here, book in his lap, reflecting on his day. He could play whatever music he liked, retire to bed when he chose; the more he reminded himself of the benefits of solitude, the quieter the voice became.

It was never entirely gone, but his health was more important than work. He couldn’t keep flying so much, even if things usually went smoothly. Even if it was one flight to one destination for a whole week, as his boss had said when he tried to convince Nick to do this last trip before starting to send Chloe out.

“You never know, you could meet someone in Dallas!” his boss had joked.

What a ridiculous notion, Nick thought to himself. Surely if he was going to meet someone it would be here in London, not all the way across the Atlantic.

**2\. Diane isn’t on the flight on 9/11**

Diane winced as she swallowed the acetaminophen tablets. But they were called something else here. Not that it mattered; she just needed something to deal with this headache, and maybe the fever she could feel rising, too. Her whole body ached, which was not a good sign, and she blinked as she realised David was looking at her, the shadow of concern from earlier now clear in his eyes.

“This is not how I wanted to spend our holiday,” she told her son. “You should go and do something. It’s our last day here.”

“I’m fine,” David said. “I told you, I want to come back next year, and I’ll never do everything. It can wait.”

He spoke lightly, but Diane could see his eyes assessing her. He was trying to decide if he should do something, she could tell.

“I’m just going to sleep,” she protested. “You can call reception from wherever you end up, get them to phone me in a few hours if you’re really worried.”

He hesitated. “I really don’t want to leave you alone,” he said.

“Two hours, then,” Diane said. “Go out and enjoy the rare experience of London in September with no rain. Come back in two hours and check on me.” She really didn’t want his holiday to be spoiled by her illness.

“Okay,” he finally relented. “I’ll bring you one of those brownies from the market outside King’s Cross Station.”

“Thank you,” she smiled at him. He collected his things, but hesitated before leaving. “Go!” she said good naturedly.

As soon as he’d gone her smile vanished. She felt terrible, even with the medication. Her whole body was hot, her skin felt tight, and she hadn’t told David about the rash that had appeared on her chest. She’d been able to cover the symptoms to begin with, but as she felt more and more fatigued, it was harder to hide it from him. When she’d woken this morning, bones aching and head pounding, he’d looked at her.

“You’re staying in bed,” he said to her.

Much as she wanted to object, he was right. Warm water from room service, an awkward conversation while he and the concierge had figured out what David meant when he said ‘acetaminophen’, and now she was ready to sleep again. Whatever was wrong with her, she just hoped she’d feel better before their flight tomorrow.

+++

“Mom?”

David’s voice broke through, pulling her out of sleep.

“Mmm?” she replied, prising her eyes open to stare blearily at him.

“It’s afternoon,” David said, his expression concerned. “I came back, but you were still asleep, and you didn’t wake up. You’ve slept all day.”

“Oh,” Diane said, struggling to sit up. She blinked, focussing on the woman behind David. She smiled as she stepped forward.

“Hello,” she said with a gentle Indian-English accent. “I am Dr. Thapliyal. Your son said you’re not feeling well?”

“No,” Diane replied, unable to deny it any further.

The doctor asked some questions and examined her, the usual temperature-breathing-ears-and-eyes-and-throat. David had tactfully gone in search of something to eat, and Diane unbuttoned the front of her pyjamas, showing the doctor her rash.

“How long have you had this?” she asked, pressing gently on the red skin.

“A day or two,” Diane admitted.

“Mmm,” the doctor replied, frowning a little. “And had you noticed these spots?”

“Spots?” Diane repeated, looking down. “No. Is that why it’s itching?”

“Itching?” the doctor said. She sat back, looking at Diane. “Can I ask, have you ever had chicken pox?”

“Chicken pox?” Diane repeated. “No, I haven’t.”

“Well, I’m fairly confident you have now,” Dr. Thapliyal told her, expression clearing. “You said you’ve been in the country ten days?”

“Yes,” Diane said. “Depending on what day it is.” She frowned. “How long did David say I was asleep?”

“It’s Monday,” the doctor said. “Chicken pox has a seven to twenty day incubation, so you may have been exposed on the plane. It’s probable the person didn’t even know they had it.”

“Am I contagious?” Diane asked. “I’ve been to a lot of tourist attractions.” She could picture the families she’d seen there, and winced.

“You wouldn’t have known,” Dr. Thapliyal consoled her. “There was nothing you should have done differently.” She smiled at Diane. “And your son said you’re due to fly out tomorrow?” Diane nodded, and the doctor went on, “I’m sorry, but you won’t be able to fly for another week at least.”

“Another week?” Diane repeated, alarmed.

“I’m sorry,” the doctor said. “You’ll be contagious until the blisters have stopped appearing and they’ve all crusted over.” Diane winced. “As an adult, there’s a higher risk of complications, too. I’d like to keep an eye on you for the next week, just to be sure.”

“A week,” Diane said faintly. “So does that mean I won’t be home tomorrow?”

“It does,” Dr. Thapliyal replied. She smiled at Diane. “Don’t worry. I’m sure it will be the same, flying home next week instead of…” she frowned. “What is tomorrow’s date?”

“September eleventh,” Diane replied miserably. “I have to be back at work on Thursday.”

“I’m sorry,” Dr. Thapliyal said again. “Even if you did fly home, you won’t be able to work.” She started packing her things. “I’m surprised you’ve gone this long without catching it, to be honest. I don’t meet a lot of patients your age who have.”

“No,” Diane said. “It was always something interesting about me.” She smiled. “I guess not anymore.”

“Well, this is a good story too,” the doctor said, picking up her bag. “I’ll come back the day after tomorrow and see you.” She left a piece of paper on the desk. “Your son should go and find you some of this. It will help with the itching.”

“Thank you,” Diane said.

When the door had quietly closed, she leaned her head back. How on Earth had she caught chickenpox? Part of her wanted to try and convince David to catch his flight, but she knew he would stay with her, even if he couldn’t do anything. He’d have to call the airline, she thought drowsily. And tell the hotel. As she felt herself start to drift off again, Diane supposed the doctor had been right.

Flying home next week would be the same as flying home tomorrow.

**3\. Nick is on a different flight on 9/11**

Nick was upright, blinking as he tried to get his bearings before he even realised he was awake. Someone was banging on his door. Why was that? It was still dark outside, which didn’t mean a lot in London, but surely he wasn’t expecting someone this early?

Flicking his light on, he stumbled to the door, opening it before he was really aware what was going on.

“I’m guessing you’re not ready, mate,” the man standing on his doorstep said. “Taxi booked for 5am?”

Nick stared at him. “Oh no…”

“Oh yeah,” the taxi driver grinned at him. “I’ll wait in the cab. Meter’s running, mind, and you’d better get a move on if you’re gonna catch your flight.”

“Right,” Nick muttered, adrenalin flooding his system. For whatever reason, his alarm clock hadn’t gone off, and now he had very few moments to get himself ready to leave. Thank goodness he was used to travelling. Forsaking the shower, breakfast and coffee was a given, but his clothes were laid out and bag packed, so it was less than ten minutes before he was locking his front door and wrenching open the door of the taxi.

“Sorry, slept in,” he said to the driver.

“No worries,” the driver said, grinning. “Heading to Heathrow?”

“Yes,” Nick replied.

“Got your passport? Toothbrush? Ticket?” he asked, grinning.

Nick started to reply, then the smile dropped from his face and he fumbled for his keys. “Just a minute…”

How could he forget his passport, he berated himself. It was still in the other suit jacket, that was the problem; he’d barely returned from his last trip and now work was sending him off again. At least he remembered before he’d arrived at the airport. Have to remember to tip the cabbie, he thought as he climbed back in, passport in hand.

“Alright?” the driver asked again.

“Yes, thank you,” Nick replied. “Don’t know how I forgot that.”

“You don’t travel much, then?” the driver asked.

“All the time,” Nick replied. “Too much. I hadn’t even put it away from last time. Still in my other jacket pocket.”

The cabbie shook his head. “Me, I’ve never left London. Well, a couple of trips to the seaside as a lad, but otherwise…” he trailed off.

Nick nodded. The adrenalin of the quick start was wearing off, reminding him it was actually still only just after five in the morning. They settled into silence, only BBC radio to keep them company as they headed through the darkness to the airport.

At least he hadn’t missed his flight.

“Jesus, you’re kidding,” the cabbie’s voice cut through Nick’s reflective thoughts.

“What?” Nick asked.

“Must be a bloody accident,” the cabbie said, waving one hand at the standstill traffic in front of them. “Hold on, I’ll try a different way.”

Nick nodded. He knew he’d left plenty of time to get to the airport; even his regular travels didn’t ease the eternal worry that he’d arrive too late. Not a good look when he was travelling for work. As the cab started to ease through the slow moving traffic, taking side road and working its way toward the airport, Nick’s discomfort rose. They were beginning to cut things very close indeed; he had to check in before half seven, and as the hand crept past the hour, he wondered how his boss would react to an early morning call asking for permission to book another flight. Not well, Nick thought, gritting his teeth and trying hard to breathe calmly. Anxiety would not help things, he reminded himself. He would get there when he got there. He found himself playing with his passport, spinning it around for something to do. Eventually he tucked it in his inner pocket. Leaving it in the cab was not an option.

“Thanks!” Nick said, handing the wad of bills to the cabbie and letting himself out. He’d occupied himself in the last ten minutes of their trip figuring out the approximate cost, adding a decent tip and finding the bills – it also allowed for a quick getaway, barely waiting for the cabbie to respond before he was striding away. At least he was familiar with the airport, which was fortunate because he was cutting it extremely close when he finally approached the check in desk.

“Good morning,” he greeted the attendant.

“Good morning sir,” she replied. “Where are you flying today?”

“Dallas-Fort Worth,” he told her, reaching for his passport. He passed it over, registering something different about the sight right before her brow creased.

“I’ll need your ticket, too,” she said.

“It’s inside the first page,” Nick said, indicating his passport, but as he said the words he realised he couldn’t see the end of the ticket poking out. That was what looked different.

“I’m sorry, it’s not,” she said apologetically. “Is it still in your pocket?”

“No, I always tuck it inside the first page of my passport,” Nick said, blinking. What had happened to it? It was there when he’d run back in to pick it up, he remembered checking before returning to the cab.

Before playing with it in the cab. To ease his nerves about missing the flight.

“Oh dear,” he whispered, looking at her. She’d realised something was wrong, and her expression was now sympathetic.

“I’m going to miss my flight, aren’t I?” he asked her, resigned to it.

“I’m sorry, you are,” she said. She typed for a moment, then glanced at him. “Do you know where your ticket is?”

“I’m fairly sure I left it in the cab,” Nick replied.

“So nobody else will try to use it,” she confirmed.

“No,” he replied. “The cabbie didn’t even have a passport.”

“Well,” she said, “I can transfer you to a later flight. We have another leaving in four hours with plenty of spare seats. I’m sure we could accommodate you if you’d like?”

“Yes please,” Nick said, relieved. He grinned at her. “What is the date today?”

“The eleventh of September,” she told him.

“Eleventh of September,” he mused. “Must be my lucky day, to get on that flight.”

**4\. There are no spare seats on the plane**

Diane shifted, her neck stiff after so many hours on the plane. She wished, well a lot of things by now, not the least of which was for the woman beside her to evaporate, or move, or something. The flight was full, which Diane already knew, but it didn’t stop the wish rolling to the front of her consciousness every hour or so. She was desperately worried about David; his flight hadn’t been close to New York, but from what limited information had filtered around their plane, there had been other flights affected too. Some people were saying hijacking, others some kind of bomb or sophisticated technology.

The one thing they knew for sure was that a lot of people had died, and not everyone was accounted for.

At this moment, Diane had no idea if that included her son.

There was nothing she could do, of course, and no way to contact him. Even the crew on their flight appeared to have no information about what was happening. The best they could offer was to tell people where they were (New-found-land, Canada; Diane vaguely recalled an island off the east coast, somewhere that looked and sounded incredibly isolated). The few mobile phones had been passed around until all the batteries were dead, and so now they just waited. Cramped, hot, the smell of so many bodies in a small space becoming overwhelming, and all Diane wanted in this moment was the smallest extra amount of space that would be created by her neighbour no longer existing.

She felt guilty, of course, but allowed the fantasy to play out in her head. She would be able to stretch in a slightly different direction; her arms would be able to relax, moving a little more freely with the extra inches of room. From nowhere, her brain took the idea and ran in a different direction, and she felt her mouth pull up in a smile as she followed it.

“Mind if I sit here?” the voice in her head sounded real, and imaginary-Diane turned to see the kind and handsome face of a man asking if he could sit in the middle seat. He had some excuse; she glossed over that point. Not important. What was important was how he asked after her, actually listening as she explained her concern about her son. He was a little unsure of himself, the small awkward joke modelled after something she’d read in a book, endearing this fictional person to her.

The face was familiar, though…

Diane opened her eyes, frowning out of the window. She’d heard somewhere that the faces you saw in your dreams weren’t actually created from nothing, but were faces our subconscious remembered from places. People on the train, in the shops…your brain remembered them and whipped them out when you needed them. Like for a fantasy on a plane, for example. Maybe it was someone she’d seen at the airport, then?

Restless, Diane turned to the woman beside her. “Excuse me,” she murmured.

Both her seatmates stood up, allowing Diane into the aisle. There was a constant stream of people stretching, walking slowly around the plane in a never ending loop as they tried to stave off boredom and keep muscles somewhat loose, and she joined the flow. Walking towards the back of the plane meant her eyes could linger on faces as she shuffled along. Perhaps this was where the mystery man’s face was from, Diane thought to herself. The idea made her smile, and she started paying attention, trying to see each face before she passed, comparing it to the face she remembered from her daydream.

None matched. There were a few people she wasn’t able to see clearly; several asleep, and of course, the people up and walking at the same time as her left tell-tale empty seats on the otherwise crowded flight. Perhaps it was someone at the airport, Diane thought. How interesting that her brain considered that the best match. Kind and thoughtful, her brain had needed, and it found someone in her subconscious. As she stopped near the back of the plane, joining the queue for the lavatory, Diane wondered if the man actually bore the attributes she’d seen in his face. What would he actually be like?

English, she decided, with a beautiful accent. Coming to Dallas for work of some kind. Something important, but he wouldn’t boast about it. She decided he would be a little shy; not too much, but enough that she felt comfortable being herself. He would be a good listener and a gentleman, and of course, he would think she was wonderful.

“Wonderful,” she murmured to herself.

“What’s wonderful?” a voice sounded from behind her.

“Oh, nothing,” Diane said, glancing back over her shoulder.

It was him.

She stared for a second, feeling like she was staring at a ghost.

“Are you alright?” he asked, his English accent exactly as she had imagined it. When Diane didn’t respond, he gestured behind her. “I think you’re next,” he said.

“Oh!” She turned to see the line had moved without her. “Thank you.”

When she turned to speak to him again she saw he’d continued on his lap around the plane. Too far away to speak to him now, she thought. What a coincidence, although given they’d been stuck here for however many hours with only this limited space to move around, it wasn’t all that surprising.

Part of her brain wanted to find him again. If she’d been right about him being kind and English, what else had she been right about? The logical part of her, though, knew it was just that – coincidence. She had no way of knowing if he was actually kind, and given the flight was coming from Paris, it wasn’t a stretch for him to be English.

It was just her brain playing tricks, making insignificant things more important than they actually were.

+++

When they landed in Dallas – five days after they set off – Diane briefly wondered about the Englishman. She hadn’t seen him in Gambo; there were so many people, and she’d hardly spoken to a soul, overwhelmed by the sheer volume of humanity. It was as though he hadn’t really existed except in her mind – and in a way, he had.

**5\. They did meet on the plane but not afterwards**

“Ladies and gentlemen, you can take only your carry-on bags. Checked luggage will remain in the hold. Please take your pillows and blankets as well.”

Diane glanced at Nick, a nervous smile breaking over her face. “Sounds like we’re actually getting off.”

“It appears so,” Nick replied. He ducked his head, peering out the window. “Not that you can see anything out there.”

“No,” Diane said. She and Nick were still at the awkward stage of getting to know someone; she barely knew him at all, really, except that he’d sat down and asked her how she was.

Nobody had asked that until him.

Intellectually, she knew everyone on board was dealing with their own circumstances, but just having someone ask made her feel better. Feel seen. It had turned out he didn’t have any family or anything in the US.

“Just work colleagues,” he assured her, then frowned and corrected himself. “Not that they’re not important. But not the same as family.”

“I know what you mean,” Diane replied.

“Hopefully there will be payphones at the airport,” Nick said. “We can join the lines, call…your sister, was it?”

“Yes,” Diane said, a small thrill whirling in her stomach that he remembered. “If he’s able to, he’ll call her. She’s all the family we have.”

Nick nodded, but didn’t say anything. Around them, people had started standing up, bags in hand; when the line began to move, they stood too, joining it. Diane was nervous as they exited the plane and walked across the tarmac. The darkness had lifted with the morning, but the building was unfamiliar, old fashioned in a way that made it seem less dated and more retro. Nick was walking beside her, and though they didn’t speak it was comforting to have him there. Diane wondered fleetingly if they would stay at the airport. From what she’d heard, the airport dwarfed the nearest town, and from the number of planes she could see there must be thousands of people here. There was a rudimentary passport control, though, and they passed through without incident.

“Over here if you have a baby!” A voice called out as they filed through the doors. “Diapers, formula, baby food, clothing…”

Diane blinked as the hall opened out into the terminal. It was organised chaos, and her heart skipped a beat when she saw the line for the payphones.

“Phones,” she said to Nick. He nodded, changing direction with her until they stood at the end of the very long line. As they waited, locals came up to see them, offering water and food.

“Anyone need medication?” Another volunteer walked along the line. “If your medication is in your checked luggage I can help you with an emergency prescription.”

“Oh,” Nick said. “I need to do that.”

“Oh, okay,” Diane replied. She looked at him, the moment stretching awkward between them. “Will I…I might see you later, then?”

“I’ll find you,” Nick said. “Looking at this line, you’ll still be here.”

“Okay,” Diane repeated. He smiled at her before following the local man who was nodding as Nick ducked his head to explain what he needed.

Diane had no idea how many minutes had passed as she waited in line for the phone; it crept forward, even as locals gave gentle reminders that calls were to be kept as short as possible. The time was marked in volunteers instead. Water, fruit, sandwiches; offering to meet dietary requirements, find translators, fill prescriptions. The people here had thought of it all, Diane was amazed to see. And nobody looked like they didn’t want to be here, the concern on their faces genuine as they checked on people in the lines.

But still Nick was gone.

The discontent rippled up the line, and Diane frowned until the words became intelligible.

“Out of order?” she gasped. “No…”

“There will be more phones at the shelters,” the volunteers were trying to reassure people, but Diane was too upset to listen properly. She allowed herself to be herded towards the doors, buses waiting to take them to wherever it was they would be taken.

It wasn’t until she was on the bus she remembered Nick.

They hadn’t seen each other again after he went to have his prescription filled, and he wasn’t on her bus. The trip was short, through darkness and trees, and looking for Nick in their huge shelter took up the hours she needed to fill.

But he wasn’t there. Nobody had a complete list of who was where; she didn’t know enough about him anyway. One of the locals explained that plane people had been taken to a number of towns, and the small flicker of hope inside Diane died.

“If you met him on the plane, you’ll see him again when you leave,” someone pointed out.

“Well, yes,” Diane replied. She couldn’t explain why she wanted him close now, why the barest beginning of a friendship on the plane had been so comforting. It sounded silly and romantic, so instead she took herself out for a walk.

+++

“Hello, Nick,” Diane said, when he came to see her on the plane. People had been allowed to sit where they pleased, and to her disappointment a couple took the seats beside her. She and Nick spoke for a moment over their sleeping heads, but it was uncomfortable and awkward, and after a few words about their experiences in Newfoundland, he returned to his seat.

At the airport Diane waited for him, catching his eye before he disappeared into the crowds.

“How long are you in Dallas?” she asked, heart thumping at the brazen conversation she was initiating.

“My conference was cancelled,” he said apologetically. “So I fly back immediately.”

Inexplicably, her heart sank. What had she been expecting? He was hardly going to go out of his way to see her again. Not when they’d barely spent any time together.

With all the courage she could muster, Diane put on a smile and said, “Well, it was nice to meet you. Safe flight home.”

“Thank you,” Nick replied. His eyes seemed to linger as though he was going to say something else, but that was her imagination, of course. “Goodbye, Diane.”


	2. ...and the one time they did.

It wasn’t either of their faults, not really, but Diane and David were still annoyed at each other when they reached the airport. He was flying directly to visit his father in Lisbon, while Diane took a flight back to Dallas; neither had checked what time they would need to leave, and so they were late. Not I’ll-miss-my-flight-late, but later-than-I’d-like-to-be-late, which set both on edge.

“Come on,” she said to David, as he scrambled out of the taxi.

“I’m coming, Mom,” he replied.

She bit back her quick retort, instead letting her eyes drift across the people arriving as David organised his bags. The taxi that pulled up behind theirs let out a man, tall and well dressed; he caught Diane’s eye as she watched him. He looked surprised at her gaze, as though he wondered if they knew each other. Diane blinked. Why did she feel drawn to wave to him? He gave an uncertain smile before his driver caught his attention. Diane looked away, feeling her cheeks heat at the strange interaction, but when she looked back he was gone.

“Come on, Mom,” David’s voice said, pulling her back to the present. “Let’s check in, then we can relax.”

The line was mercifully short and they checked their bags easily enough. The fleeting thought that the man from the taxi wasn’t there crossed Diane’s mind, but she shook it out of her head. It was ridiculous to wonder; she’d barely even seen him. He could work at the airport, or be travelling domestically, or a hundred other things that did not mean she would ever see him again.

“Should we go through security?” David asked. “We have plenty of time – well, you do.” He glanced at his watch. “Actually, I should definitely go through now.”

“Yes, of course,” Diane replied. “Sorry, yes I’m coming.”

The line at security was longer, but at least it was moving. A couple of times Diane caught herself looking, but she forced herself to talk to David instead. Just because someone was tall and wearing a navy blazer, didn’t mean they were the man from the taxi. That was ridiculous.

They’d finally come through security unscathed and David said, “Well I should find my gate.”

“We weren’t too late, then,” Diane said with a smile.

“No,” David said. “Although next time we should definitely both check our tickets at least five times.”

Diane smiled, pleased to know there was no lingering irritation. “We should,” she agreed.

“Fly safe, Mom,” he said.

She pulled him into a hug, kissing the side of his head while he groaned theatrically. “I love you. Be safe. Let me know when you’ve landed,” she told him.

“Of course,” he replied. “I love you too, Mom.”

“Bye,” she said, waving. It always made her nervous when he flew, and she’d only rest easy when she knew he landed safely. Diane watched until he had disappeared into the crowd before she turned to check her ticket. Plenty of time until boarding commenced, so she could have a coffee before she had to find the right gate.

This level didn’t seem to have any cafes, so she followed the pictograph for food, stepping onto the escalator down, eyes drifting as she waited to arrive.

Eyes locked on hers, blue as the sky, and with a jolt she realised it was the man from the taxi on the escalator going in the other direction. From the startled expression she could tell he recognised her too; she gave him a tentative smile, and he returned it as they passed. When she stepped off at the bottom Diane hesitated, wondering if it would be odd to turn around and go up, to follow him.

Yes, definitely odd, she told herself. Just get a coffee. It’s not a coincidence to see him twice at the same airport. She kept telling herself the same thing as she found a coffee shop and ordered, sitting at a table where she could see people passing. Just so she didn’t feel claustrophobic, she told herself. Not at all so she could scan faces as people walked past. Definitely not to look for the man from the taxi (she really needed to find a less cumbersome way of referring to him). Much as she might try to kid herself, Diane found her hand slowing as she stirred in sugar; her eyes flitted from face to face, heart stuttering every time someone looked a little like Him (tall, navy blazer, glasses). It never was, of course. How silly to think they might cross paths again.

By the time she took a sip of her coffee, it was cold and far too sweet. Diane blinked at the table, realising her distraction had led her to add several more sugars than she usually would. She shook her head, knowing she was blushing even though nobody else would know why she was embarrassed. Stop behaving like a schoolgirl, she berated herself, cleaning off the table and abandoning the coffee. It was more or less time to make her way to the gate, anyway. At least she could put him out of her mind now that she was heading home.

Settling into her seat on the plane, Diane sighed. The seat beside her was empty, which was a blessing; the little extra personal space made a huge difference, even if she did plan on sleeping the whole way home. Jet lag was apparently terrible, and a friend had given her some tablets to help her sleep. When her flight landed late morning she should be well enough rested to last through the rest of the day.

As soon as the wheels left the ground Diane took two of the tablets and made herself comfortable. With any luck, she’d sleep until they were back over American soil, at least.

+++

The tablets worked well, though she’d had strange dreams. Something about the plane dropping, turning sharply; it had been unsettling, to say the least. Someone trying to wake her was probably not a dream, but she didn’t have a concrete memory of it. At some point someone had sat in the middle seat. She obviously didn’t remember who it was, because her brain told her it was Him, the man from the taxi. That was clearly her subconscious. Why would he have come and sat beside her? And they certainly wouldn’t have talked at all. Besides, when she woke properly, the seat was empty.

Diane stretched, glancing around. Something was very strange. The plane was very quiet. No, that wasn’t right. It was _silent_. The engines were off, and it was still, the lights dimmed. There were still people aboard though; many sleeping, some resting, those awake looking upset. Leaning over, Diane tried to speak to the man in the aisle seat, but he was clearly asleep. She shifted uncomfortably, knowing she would have to step past him to visit the bathroom very soon. With a shrug, she did it immediately; he grumbled as she whispered her apology. What was going on? It was dark outside, but it didn’t look like any airport she knew. There were almost no people, for one thing, and only one building visible.

Hesitating, Diane looked up and down the plane. Which way should she head? There seemed to be less people in the aisle toward the back so she moved in that direction. The line for the bathroom was fairly long and she resigned herself to wait, looking over the passengers. Most were sleeping, heads lolling onto neighbours or propped up with one of those sleeping pillows. As she took a single step forward, following the woman in front of her, Diane realised her eyes had settled on one person – and he was looking back at her.

It was him. Him. _Him_ , from the taxi, and the escalator…and now the plane.

He recognised her, she could see; the astonishment was evident, even across several rows of seats. He was sitting on the far side of the plane between two sleeping passengers, but his eyes were locked on Diane’s.

“The line’s moving,” someone behind her said.

Diane moved without acknowledging it, her heart pounding at discovering him on this flight. If she believed in that kind of thing she might be considering fate or destiny. Scoff though she often did at tales of coincidence, this seemed a little far-fetched even for her sceptical brain to write off.

“The line’s still moving,” the voice came again.

Diane glanced back, then found His eyes. Her slight smile was met with the same, and a thrill ran through her as he gave a small wave.

With a deep breath she stepped forward and forced herself to look ahead, waiting for the bathrooms without staring across all those people. Should she walk back to her seat in that direction? Walk past him? Actually speak to him? It felt odd that she hadn’t; he felt familiar now, which was strange, given how little they’d actually interacted with each other. With a jolt, Diane realised she had no idea what was happening on the plane. Her mind had been entirely side tracked with the familiar face as she waited in line.

“What’s going on?” she asked the person behind her. “I mean, why are we here?”

“No idea,” he said. He frowned. “D’you sleep through it or something?”

“Yes,” Diane said. “I took something to help me sleep when we took off and I just woke up.”

“Oh,” he said. “Well, we don’t really know. Something happened in the US, and they closed their airspace. So we’re here in Canada.”

“Canada?” Diane repeated.

“Newfoundland,” he confirmed. “Been here a while now, nobody knows when we’ll be allowed off or anything.”

“Right,” Diane whispered. She moved up with the line, and when the next bathroom came free she stepped in, mind reeling. They were in Canada? How bizarre.

+++

“Ladies and gentlemen, please take only your carry-on bags. Checked luggage will remain in the hold.”

Diane nodded to herself, picking up her bag. It had been hours since she woke, the sun finally peeking over the horizon to light the cabin and reveal the airport through her tiny window, moving across the sky and setting again. The airport was huge, and with planes lined up everywhere, Diane wondered what would happen to them once they had gotten off the plane.

She wondered if she could find Him. If everyone was getting off, surely he would too? The thought lingered and she found herself scanning faces again as they disembarked, walked across the tarmac, assembled in the terminal; for all the people, she couldn’t see him. Frustrated, she turned frowning at herself.

“Hello,” a voice sounded behind her. Assuming it was speaking to someone else, Diane did not turn.

“Diane?” the voice said tentatively, and she whirled. Who would know her…

“Oh,” she whispered. It was Him. Standing right in front of her, looking nervous but relieved at the same time. She smiled at him, relief flowing through her at his presence. “Hello.”

“How are you doing?” he asked, the British accent clear even over the noise around them.

“How do you know my name?” Diane asked.

His smile wavered uncertainly. “We…spoke on the plane?” he told her. “I sat in the seat beside you. I think I woke you as I sat down.”

Diane stared at him before remembering her dream. “I don’t remember,” she admitted. “I took a sleeping tablet before we left.”

His expression cleared, and his smile was more relaxed. “Well that explains why you fell asleep again,” he said.

“I’m sorry,” Diane said, but he clearly wasn’t upset. “And I don’t know your name.”

“Nick,” he said. “I’m Nick.”

“Diane,” she replied automatically. “But you already know that.”

He nodded. “You said you know someone that was flying today,” he said. “Have you found a phone?”

Diane stared at him. “David,” she whispered. Her stomach dropped. She hadn’t considered him since stepping off the plane, too busy looking for Him – for Nick. “No, I haven’t found a phone.”

“I’ll help you,” Nick offered, and he made to speak again but was interrupted.

“Anyone with prescription medication in their checked luggage, come and see us over here!” A voice came over the crowd. “We can help you get your prescriptions filled!”

Nick turned to Diane. “I should go. My medication’s in my bag.”

Diane felt a jolt. Was he ill? It must have shown on her face because he said hastily, “It’s heart medication. I have a slight arrhythmia, nothing serious.”

She felt herself relax. “Oh, okay.”

He hesitated before leaving, and she wondered if he was going to say anything else. Perhaps she should say something? Before she could figure out how to say, “I want to see you again,” without sounding ridiculous, he’d turned with a quick smile to make his way in the direction of the announcement.

He was swallowed up by the crowd, and her disappointment at seeing him go seemed disproportionate. Had he been as pleased to see her as she was him? Her connection to him still felt far stronger than it should.

It wasn’t long before local people started circulating, encouraging passengers to move towards the buses; it sounded like shelters had been set up in the town. Nick was still nowhere to be seen, and Diane was torn between doing what the patient young man was asking of her, and waiting for Nick. It felt wrong to go without him, but she couldn’t put it off forever, and eventually she had to get on the bus alone.

“Is this the last bus?” she asked the driver. The rest of the airport looked very quiet, only groups of what looked like locals standing poring over lists or having serious looking conversations over cups of coffee.

“It is,” he told her. “Everyone else had been taken out to one of the towns.”

“One of the towns?” Diane repeated. “How many towns are there?”

“Half a dozen or so have set up shelters,” he said, starting the bus with a rumble. “Gander’s not big enough for everyone. Almost as many people off these planes as we got living in town!”

“Oh,” Diane whispered. From the size of the airport she’d assumed it was a proportionately large town. Obviously not. It took a moment for her to realise why she was disappointed.

The more shelters, the less likely she was to run into Nick again. The idea made her deeply discontent, and the tiredness she’d so far ignored came crashing through her.

The drive was short through the darkness, and finally their bus pulled up at what looked like a school. Diane followed the rest of the people off her bus, exhaustion pulsing through her bones. A woman stood before them, looking like she’d been working for hours, wisps of hair escaping her bun but a kind smile on her face as she introduced herself and explained how things were set up.

“So what actually happened?” someone asked.

The woman’s smile faded as she realised they didn’t know. Fear clenched in Diane’s stomach. It must be bad. Really bad, if the dismay on this woman’s face was anything to go by. She swallowed, the fear burning hot and acidic in her stomach. She needed to hear from David. Watching the news didn’t help; the images were horrific, and she hugged herself, desperate to call her sister, the only family she and David had in the world. If he was okay, he’d call her.

Turning away from the news, Diane found a volunteer who directed her to the phones. There was a line, of course; as she moved closer Diane felt herself getting more nervous. She couldn’t look at other people. Some bore relief, others the fear and worry that still roiled inside her. It was too much.

She swallowed.

_I wish Nick was here._

Where had that come from? But his eyes rose in her mind, the kindness as he’d asked after David. Remembered the short conversation on the plane, which was more than she had done. Even if she could blame the sleeping pills, it was embarrassing she’d forgotten. He’d been gracious, though, and understanding, and she could do with some of that right now. In a room filled with strangers, even that new connection would be a comfort.

Finally, she had her turn at the phone. Alison was quick to reassure her that David was safe; flights in Europe were largely unaffected, and he’d landed safely before she had even landed in Newfoundland.

Once her heart had been eased about David, Diane realised just how tired she was. It was night time, or at least dark outside; she had no idea of the time. It didn’t really matter though. The moment she lay down in the classroom she fell asleep.

+++

The next morning, Diane woke, disoriented and confused for a few seconds before remembering.

Plane.

Nick.

School.

Nick.

With a sigh, she picked up her bag, heading for the ladies’. She did the best she could with her face and her hair, not feeling great but at least presentable. A walk through the shelter and she was given breakfast and offered a change of clothes, which she gratefully accepted. Odd as it was to be wearing another woman’s donated set of clothes, they were cleaner and warmer than her own, and the kindness of someone offering their own clothes touched her. Once she’d eaten and changed, the restlessness set in. Nobody could say for sure when they could fly again – it was up to the FAA to reopen the American airspace – but everyone looked quite resigned to being here for at least the rest of the day.

Sitting inside all day wasn’t an option; she needed some air.

Walking outside, the sky was clear, though the air was cool. Hesitating, Diane turned right out of the school. She had no idea where she was going, but took note of the name – Gander Academy – so that she could ask directions later if she needed to. It wasn’t far before the footpath ran out as the town petered out. Shrugging, Diane turned back. Turn left, she told herself, next time turn-

“Diane!” the voice was familiar, and Diane turned, heart thumping.

“Nick!” she exclaimed. He was just walking out of the Academy building as she walked past. “You’re staying here too?”

“I am,” he said, smiling.

“I was on the last bus from the airport,” she said. “When did you get here?”

“Last night sometime,” he told her. “There were a few buses here. They took us right from the chemist onto a bus.”

Diane hadn’t noticed when they started walking together, but suddenly Nick had grabbed her arm, pulling her to a stop.

“What?” she said.

“You’ve gotten used to looking the other way,” Nick said.

Diane looked around her. They were standing at a crossroads, and Nick was right – she’d glanced to her right as they’d done in England, but here the cars drove on the other side of the road and she’d almost stepped out in front of the traffic.

“Thank you,” she said, looking up at him. She concentrated and they crossed together. “I didn’t realise it was becoming a habit.”

“You were holidaying in England?” Nick asked her.

“Yes, with my son,” she told him. “He’s gone to Portugal now.”

“You have a son?” Nick asked, frowning.  
“Yes, he was the one flying yesterday,” Diane told him. “The one I was worried about.”

“Right,” Nick said. He still looked slightly confused about something.

“It is Wednesday?” Diane asked him uncertainly.

“I think so,” Nick replied. “It probably doesn’t matter, really.”

“No,” Diane realised. “Not if we’re not doing anything except waiting.”

They continued for a while, and Diane was surprised how comfortable it was to walk quietly with Nick. Finally, he glanced at her and asked, “What is your son doing in Portugal?”

“Visiting his father,” Diane said. “He met his wife out there and moved over a few years ago.”

Nick was frowning again. “Your son or…”

“No, not my son,” Diane grinned. “I’ve been divorced for a long time now.”

“Oh,” Nick replied. His frown cleared, and Diane wondered for a second if he’d been unsure about…but no. Surely, he wasn’t thinking…

The day passed easily enough. They walked around the town, easier in each other’s company than Diane thought possible. Nick felt like an old friend. He was kind and his responses were thoughtful when she asked him an opinion. From the looks he was shooting her, Diane wondered if he felt the connection as she did. It was hardly something to bring up, not when they’d more or less just met, but as the light faded and they turned back to their shelter, Diane felt it more strongly than ever.

“I wonder if we’ll be here tomorrow,” Diane said quietly.

Nick hummed. “I’m not sure we have a lot of say in the matter,” he replied.

“At least know we’re in the same shelter,” Diane told him. They hadn’t talked about their almost-meetings at the airport; it seemed too much, a little more serious than their light conversation all day had warranted.

“We do,” Nick replied. “And the same flight, if it comes down to it.”

“Well if I don’t get a chance to tell you,” Diane said, her heart thumping as she started something she couldn’t back out of, “today has been a…good day.” It was an understatement, but she wasn’t courageous to say how much she had actually enjoyed spending time with Nick. “Thank you.”

Nick was silent for a while, until they reached the entrance to the school. “Thank you,” he said eventually, turning to her. “I must agree.” He paused. “I was…very pleased to run into you again today.”

Diane smiled, the words sounding more significant than their meaning might indicate. That could be her interpretation, though. Her view of the world seemed to be more readily accepting of things like that at the moment. Assigning meaning to random events, like meeting someone on a plane...

“I think I’m going to turn in,” she said as they crossed the main foyer. “I’m still tired from the plane.”

Nick nodded. “Perhaps, if we’re still here, we could…meet for breakfast?” he asked. “If you’d like to, that is.”

“Yes,” Diane replied immediately. “I don’t know what time, but maybe we can wait for each other in the cafeteria.”

“Certainly,” Nick replied. “Sleep well, Diane.”

“You too,” she said.

It was thankfully quiet in the classroom she was sleeping in, and Diane dropped off quickly. It felt like seconds later she woke again with a start. From the stillness around her, it was late; she must have slept for a while, at least. Sitting up, she raised her hands to her face, feeling tears there. What had she been dreaming about? Something upsetting, given her tears.

With a sigh she stood up, unsettled by the discovery. She’d go and find something warm to drink before returning to bed. The cafeteria would be open and with any luck there would be some kind of tea around.

It was open, and tea and coffee and sandwiches were arranged for anyone to help themselves. Diane marvelled at the hospitality of the people here. It was remarkable, she thought, and for some reason it filled her with melancholy. She took her tea over to one of the couches, curling up in the corner and staring into the middle distance. The lights were dimmed over here, tucked away from the main section of the cafeteria, and she found herself reliving moments from her day with Nick. His quiet manners had been amusing at first – it had been a long time since anyone had shown that kind of courtesy – but she realised they were just a part of him, not a gimmick. It matched up with the consideration that was evident in his answers to her questions about his life.

Above all that, Diane had slowly started to come to the conclusion that the reason they were drawn to each other – if in fact he felt that way about her – was that like her, he was lonely. It was a long time since she’d met someone that was easy to be with, someone kind and just…nice. Not looking for something, or chasing something, or expecting her to change. She wondered if the shy Englishman she’d spent the day with would say the same thing about himself. It was not a question she would ever ask him, of course, so she would have to content herself with pondering the likelihood.

“Hello,” Nick’s voice broke through, and when she blinked, he was standing in front of her. “Penny for your thoughts?”

“I was thinking about you,” Diane said automatically.

Nick raised one eyebrow. “Would you mind if I joined you?”

“Of course not,” Diane replied. She shifted, tucking her feet under her as she turned sideways to face him on the couch. He sat, careful with his mug before looking at her. A shiver traced down her spine and she hoped it didn’t show on her face. There was something different between them now. Perhaps it was the late hour, or the quiet sadness she’d been nursing along with her tea, but she could sense they might have a different kind of conversation now than they did this afternoon.

“Might I ask what you were thinking about me?” Nick asked. “Or we could talk about the weather.”

Diane smiled. They’d had an extensive discussion about how people who didn’t know each other well always wanted to talk about the weather and how many times you could have the same conversation on a stranded plane about weather you couldn’t even see properly.

She considered his question, forming her answer before she spoke. “I was wondering why we kept running into each other,” she said. It wasn’t entirely true, but it could be. “At the airport, the plane, the other airport…and now here.”

Nick nodded. “It was you at the taxi, then?” he said. “I was so sure when I saw you on the escalator.”

“Yes,” she said. “David and I were arguing. We’d both made a mistake with the departure times.”

“We weren’t late, though,” Nick said.

“David’s flight left before ours did,” Diane said. It felt odd to say ‘our flight’ about someone she hadn’t even known at the time.

“Ah,” Nick replied. They sat in silence for a few minutes before he admitted quietly, “I followed you. Took the escalator down to see if I could find you, but you were gone, and I had to call work before I left.”

Diane looked at him, feeling her eyes grow wide at the admission. It was bolder than she’d anticipated he could be, sharing that admission. “I went to get a coffee,” she told him. “I almost caught the escalator but I told myself,” she hesitated.

“Go on,” he encouraged her.

“I told myself it was too weird,” she admitted. “Sorry.”

“It’s fine,” Nick told her with a grin. “Did you actually find a decent coffee?”

Diane felt her face heat. Time for her own admission. “I don’t know,” she said. “I was so distracted looking for you as people walked past I added five sugars and forgot to drink it.”

He grinned wide at that, and leaned forward a little. “Sounds like we were both affected, then,” he said.

“Yes,” she admitted.

“I saw you again as we boarded,” Nick added. “You were in the first group. I was going to introduce myself, but,” he stopped.

“Go on,” Diane said, deliberately echoing him from earlier. It seemed like they were both being particularly open, she thought, a little giddly with the late hour and increasing intimacy of this conversation. She didn’t want it to stop, and found herself leaning forward as she waited for Nick to speak.

“I didn’t know what to say,” he admitted. “When the plane got diverted, then we’d sat there for a while, I thought I would see if I could find you.” His cheeks coloured and he examined his mug as he added, “I’d had plenty of time to think about what I would say by then.”

Diane smiled, amazed at the vulnerability he was prepared to show. “And I was asleep,” she said. “Self-administered drugs.” She wrinkled her nose. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s fine,” Nick said.

“What a waste, though,” Diane said. “Of all that planning.”

Nick shrugged.

“Do you want to do it again now?” Diane asked, smiling at the slightly silly idea. “I could be sitting here,” she turned to face forward, “and you find me.” She nodded at him, encouragement and expectation on her face.

He hesitated, smiling self-consciously. “Do you mind if I sit here?” he said finally. “I need to get some work done, and the drunk people at the back of the plane are singing at the top of their lungs.”

Diane grinned wide. “That was your plan? ‘I need to get some work done?’”

“Yes,” Nick said defensively. “I _did_ have work to do, and the drunk people _were_ singing.”

“Really?” Diane said. “I didn’t even hear them.”

“I thought it was best to go with the truth,” Nick said.

“Thank you,” Diane said. Even in this situation, when he knew there was some deception, he wanted to have as much truth as possible. Yet another quietly attractive trait. “What next?”

“Well that was going to depend,” Nick admitted. “On if you recognised me.”

“Which I did,” Diane said. “When I woke up, I thought I’d dreamed about you.”

Nick’s eyebrows rose. “You did?”

It was Diane’s turn to shrug. “Yes. But I did recognise you when I was in line for the bathroom.”

“Yes,” Nick said, a smile creeping over his face. “So did I.”

They smiled at the joint admission, warmth blooming in Diane. This conversation was miles from what they’d discussed this afternoon.

“So that was what you were thinking about?” Nick said. “All the times we’ve almost met?”

“Almost,” Diane said. “I was looking for you at the airport. I mean, Gander Airport. When you found me.”

“I was looking for you too,” Nick said. “At least I knew your name then.”

“I’m surprised you did, after whatever I said when we sat together,” Diane said. “What did I say, actually?”

Nick’s flush was immediate and fierce, and Diane felt her eyes widen. “Oh, God, it was something embarrassing, wasn’t it?”

He winced and nodded.

“Okay, just tell me,” she said. “So I can curl up and die right here.”

“Don’t do that,” Nick said immediately. He removed one hand from his mug and placed it over hers. “Really, you don’t have to.”

Neither spoke for a second, Diane’s attention fully settled on the weight of Nick’s hand on hers. It was warm too; not surprising after being wrapped around his mug, but her brain still registered the detail. She swallowed hard. The first time he’d touched her. Well, her skin.

The very ideas that spawned were distracting, to say the least, and Diane pulled her mind firmly back.

“Okay,” she whispered. Lifting her eyes, she met Nick’s. “I won’t.”

She might have imagined his thumb brushing over her knuckles before his hands slid away, leaving her skin strangely sensitised and a little colder for his absence.

“Well, you did recognise me,” Nick said. “We introduced ourselves. You said you wouldn’t have to call me ‘the man from the taxi’ anymore.”

“Okay,” Diane said. Nothing too bad so far. Wincing internally to brace against whatever was coming, she turned, a compromise between how she’d been curled up earlier and this. One leg bent and tucked under her so she could look at Nick properly. He still looked a little uncertain, so she smiled at him encouragingly. This was not the time to back out of this conversation.

“Then,” Nick said, “you told me I have nice eyes.”

“You do,” Diane said, trying not to hide her face. Such a bold compliment was not usually in her vocabulary, but at least it was a nice thing to say.

Nick was hesitating, and Diane held her breath waiting for whatever would come next. “And then you told me you were disappointed I hadn’t been sitting next to you at the start of the flight, because you’d been looking for me all through the airport and it was a long time since you’d wanted to get to know somebody, especially someone you hadn’t even spoken to but I looked nice. And then you smiled, and then you fell asleep again.”

Diane screwed up her nose, reaching blindly over the side of the couch to place her empty mug on the floor before covering her flaming face with her hands. Oh God, why on earth had she taken those sleeping tablets? She hadn’t even spoken to Nick at that point, and there she was, pouring out her lonely-lady heart to this essentially random person.

“I’m sorry,” she said, knowing her words would be muffled. “How embarrassing, I am so-”

She was going to keep apologising – somewhere until the end of the decade seemed about right, but the touch of Nick’s hands on hers made her freeze, the words sticking in her throat. He didn’t speak, didn’t even do anything for a long second. Finally his fingers curled slightly around the edges of her hands, and she loosened them, allowing him to gently grip her hands and prise them off her face. Her eyes were still closed, and she could feel Nick lowering her hands until they rested on the couch between them. Diane waited for him to let them go but he didn’t. Instead one of his thumbs was brushing against her wrist, the light touch soothing and…something else. Something she wasn’t ready to admit yet, not even to herself. It frightened her, if she was going to be honest.

“Diane,” Nick said, his voice gentle. “Will you open your eyes?”

She did, slowly, wincing at his potential expression. He was smiling at her, leaning in again. It was a special smile, something that looked far more affectionate than anything they’d shared so far. It astonished her, this confidence he was displaying after he’d been more reserved today.

“If you hadn’t said that,” he told her quietly, his words carefully chosen, eyes locked on hers, “I would not have looked for you at the airport later.”

“You wouldn’t?” Diane whispered.

“No,” Nick told her. He frowned, and she could tell he was trying to find the right words. Impulsively, she curled her fingers around his hands. His thumb stuttered on her wrist and in the quiet she could hear his breath catch. Neither spoke for a moment. “It made me more confident. That you might want…to talk to me. Again.”

The anxiety in her chest eased at his careful words. Diane thought about her relief when they’d seen him at the airport and now she was glad it had been so evident.

“Well I can’t deny it now, can I?” she said. “I don’t know why,” she continued, addressing his hands, “but it…Lord, I don’t usually talk like this. But I felt like I already had a connection with you. Somehow. Which is ridiculous because we hadn’t even spoken.” She shrugged. The words weren’t easy and she hoped he understood.

“I know,” Nick said. “I know exactly what you mean. It was recognition. When I saw you at the taxi. Which didn’t make sense because I knew we’d never met.”

Diane nodded, looking at him again. Recognition was exactly the right word. They both smiled, fingers curling in again between them. At least they were on the same page now, mortifying as it had been to get here. Whatever it was between them was something they both felt, and that meant they could move past the superficial conversations of yesterday. Diane felt herself relaxing.

“I should probably go back to bed,” she said eventually. Her eyelids felt heavy and much as she’d like to stay with Nick, the few hours’ sleep she’d already had would not be enough. There was not the anxiety of earlier, that she might not see Nick again. That doubt had been resolved.

“Me too,” Nick agreed. “I’m glad I found you.”

Diane wondered if he meant this evening – which would be nice enough in itself – or in a broader sense. After their conversation this night, it was clear they both wanted to keep spending time together. She smiled, the answer the same either way. “Me, too.”

“Breakfast?” Nick asked.

“I’ll meet you here,” Diane said. “I have no idea what time, though.”

“Whenever you wake is fine,” Nick replied. He hesitated and Diane had the peculiar feeling he had been about to kiss her before he turned and walked away.

“Wow,” she said to herself as she walked back to her classroom.

+++

Diane slept again, but the inevitable noise of hundreds of people in a school was not conducive to sleeping late, and she was up at a reasonable hour. One of the women at reception smiled as she passed, explaining that several families on the same street as the school had offered their homes if anyone wanted to take a shower. Diane’s eyes lit up at the idea.

“I’ll just have to tell my…friend,” she said. “He’s expecting me.”

She headed quickly for the cafeteria, heart skipping a beat when she saw Nick sitting patiently on the same couch they’d talked on the previous night.

“Good morning,” he said, smiling as she approach.

“Good morning,” she replied. “Apparently there’s a chance of a shower at one of the houses close by.”

He looked as eager as she felt, so they both went back to reception to investigate. The woman gave them directions, explaining that two had been designated for men and two for women, and that everything they might need would be there.

“You can collect spare clothes before you go if you’d like,” she added, pointing to the classroom with a hand drawn sign reading, ‘World’s Biggest Walk-In Wardrobe’.

Diane looked up at Nick, relief all over her face. “Amazing,” she said to him. “Should we meet back at the same place?”

“Certainly,” Nick replied.

Diane grabbed her carry-on bag – it contained her makeup – and a set of the new underwear on offer before heading out to one of the houses. It was all very orderly – the homeowners were there, making everyone comfortable, offering tea and freshly made cookies while people waited. Diane was amazed at how considerate everyone was being. Showers were short, people vacating the bathroom as soon as possible to dress in a separate designated room so more people could use the bathroom.

“Aren’t you worried about your water bill?” Diane asked Tracey, their host.

“No,” Tracey said. “It’s the least we can do.” She smiled at Diane. “You’d do the same.”

She seemed so very confident in that idea, Diane thought, relishing the feel of shampoo through her hair for the first time in days. Everyone here saw nothing special about their easy hospitality, which was in itself remarkable.

Finally, when she was clean and dressed, Diane thanked Tracey again.

“Come back tomorrow if you like,” Tracey said. She was busy making more cookies, continuing to work as she spoke to Diane. “Door’s always open.”

Diane shook her head, smiling as she returned her carry-on bag to her bed then headed into the cafeteria. She hadn’t yet had breakfast and three cookies and a cup of tea hardly qualified.

She’d just finished her eggs when Nick arrived. His clean shirt was almost the same shade, but the letter jacket was a very different style.

“Nice jacket,” she said, smiling as he sat opposite her.

“Thank you,” he replied. “It’s not mine, obviously.”

“I can tell,” Diane said, “mainly from the giant G for Gander on the front.”

Nick smiled back. “It’s nice to be clean, anyhow,” he said.

“It is,” Diane agreed. “Are you going to eat?”

“No, I ate before you woke,” he said.

“How much sleep did you actually get?” Diane asked. She bussed her plate, and they stood and looked at each other for a moment. “Want to walk with me?”

“Sure,” Nick said. They headed out, turning right together. “To answer your question, not a lot.” He glanced over at her. “Our conversation was rattling around in my head.”

Diane felt warm at the idea. “It was quite memorable, wasn’t it?” she said.

“Yes,” Nick agreed.

Impulsively, Diane reached out, taking his hand in hers. He looked startled for a moment, glancing at her before curling his fingers around her hand in response. It was nice, walking with him hand-in-hand. Comforting on a deeply emotional level, as though she’d been missing something, and this was it. God, she really was thinking differently.

They walked in silence for a while, until Diane saw a sign.

“Let’s go up there,” she said. “It could be a good view.”

Nick frowned at the sign. “It looks like there’s a lot of stairs,” he protested.

Diane looked at him. “Yes,” she said. She frowned, not sure how to put it into words. “But…I have this feeling we should go.”

“You have a feeling?” Nick repeated.

“Yes,” Diane said. “Kind of like that…” she sighed. “I know it sounds weird, but remember you said it was like recognition, when we saw each other at the airport, the first time?” Nick nodded. “Well it’s the same kind of thing. It makes sense that we should go up to the lookout.”

Nick looked at her for a long time. “Alright,” he said eventually.

“Did you not feel it?” Diane asked, when they’d started up the stairs Nick had predicted.

“No,” Nick replied. He took a few more stairs before admitting, “not until you mentioned it.”

“And then you did?” Diane pressed.

“And then it was so obvious I couldn’t believe I _didn’t_ feel it,” Nick said. “You spotted the sign, remember?”

Diane nodded. It was remarkable how similarly they were experiencing this, she thought. It was a relief. She might have wondered about her mental health if they had not talked the previous night.

“You didn’t see the sign?” she asked as they climbed.

“No,” Nick admitted. He was mainly watching his step, but he looked briefly at her before admitting, “I was distracted.”

“By?”

“I was thinking about you,” Nick said with a small smile.

Diane didn’t respond, her own word echoed back at her. She wondered what he was thinking about, but the courage to ask failed her right then. Instead she concentrated on the stairs. There were a lot, as Nick had predicted, but when they finally arrived at the top, it was worth every step. The view was breath-taking, and Diane’s fingers clenched on Nick’s for a second as she drank in the natural beauty.

“The Dover Fault,” she murmured. “Wow.”

Their hands parted as they headed in different directions. The view wasn’t quite three hundred-sixty degrees, but it must have been close, and each direction was slightly different. Diane turned slowly, marvelling at the sights.

She glanced around to see Nick gazing out over the railing at the distant water. “This is astonishingly beautiful,” he said.

“Yes,” Diane replied. She moved closer, standing beside him and leaning on the railing. They looked out over the view for a long time, their quiet thoughts uninterrupted by other people. The solitude was nice, actually, Diane thought. So many people everywhere in town, and it was just the two of them up here.

“It’s just the two of us up here,” she said. It seemed important to acknowledge it.

“It is,” he replied. “That seems unlikely, considering how many people are down there.”

Diane hummed in agreement. The idea that some kind of force was at work came to her again, and she shook her head. A few days ago, she would have thought it a ridiculous notion. Why were the ideas of fate and predetermined connection coming to her so much lately? Was it because she’d run into Nick twice at the airport before they’d been on the same plane? Possibly. But there was little proof of such concepts, and she really didn’t think explaining it to Nick would make a lot of sense.

_Unlike you recognising each other when you’d never met. He seemed to believe in that._

Diane shook her head again, a little irritated that her subconscious was so vocal today.

“Are you okay?” Nick asked.

“Yes,” Diane said. “Just wondering why there aren’t people up here.”

Nick nodded. He didn’t say anything, or ask further, which was a relief. The moment passed and Diane relaxed. She didn’t read too much into it when Nick shifted closer, his arm brushing her shoulder as he settled beside her. The wind up here was cool and they’d been here a while; he was probably cold.

It was harder to explain it away when he took her hand again, his thumb tracing slow circles on the back of her hand. She tried to remain nonchalant, but her heart thudded in her chest, hard enough that she was so very aware of it. The feel of his hand in hers was still nice, but she could feel the atmosphere between then changing again, growing heavier with anticipation. Was he trying to find words for something? Was he hoping she would speak? The questions pulsed through her body with each heartbeat and Diane had to make herself breath evenly.

Whatever was happening, it was a little overwhelming, but deep inside she could feel the rightness of it, too.

“Nick,” she said quietly, turning to him.

He turned at the sound of his name, raising one eyebrow.

Diane had no idea what she was going to say next. She met his eyes, still blue and kind, but now apprehensive as he waited.  
“I don’t know what I was going to say,” she admitted.

“Oh,” Nick replied. He hesitated, then said, “I was thinking about why this place might be deserted. Except for us.”

Diane shrugged, trying to act naturally. “Oh?” She swallowed. “Do you have any ideas?”

“Well,” Nick said, “there’s one possibility.” He eased closer, and Diane’s heart gave up trying to beat at a regular pace, exploding into thunderous pounding as she realised.

_He’s going to kiss me._

_I want him to._

“I don’t know if it’s a coincidence,” Nick said, “but if there were other people here, I might not have the confidence to do this.”

Diane could feel herself leaning towards him, fingers tightening on his as his free hand reached up to cup her jaw. She shivered, swallowing at the expression in his eyes as he moved closer. He must have noticed her reaction, because the apprehension of earlier melted away, replaced by relief and desire. Something Diane had not seen directed at her for a very long time. Something she had not felt for a long time, yet it was rolling through her body now.

It felt like slow motion, but when the gap between them was finally closed and their mouths met, it felt like coming home. All the ridiculous impressions and ideas about fate and destiny or whatever now seemed perfectly plausible as they stood here on a rock on an island in the middle of nowhere, hundreds of miles from either of their homes, kissing softly in the morning light.


End file.
